Might Have
by quirky21
Summary: Oneshot related to my Sekhmet fic. Based on a gift prompt. Emily gets shot, out in the middle of nowhere.
A/N – Thousand-word(ish) oneshot gift for Aeowynn99. Set in the Sekhmet universe, probably after the events of Winter Soldier.

* * *

 **Might Have**

"This was supposed to be a quiet region." Natasha hissed behind the scope of Emily's rifle. Where the hell was that sniper? A hundred miles from the closest ounce of civilization, and Emily gets herself shot by a sniper. She forced herself not to glance at Emily, at the red-soaked bandaging around her leg. The bloody mud beneath her. If the bullet hadn't clipped that tree first and changed its trajectory, it probably would've gone through her head. This sniper was damn good.

No. Find the sniper, then worry about Em's survival. Movement. She scanned toward it. Only a bird. Black powder ignition roared, and the tree she was hiding behind, along with her shoulder, was bit. Ignoring the pain, she followed the gouge in the bark right back to the sniper's hiding spot.

Nothing. This bastard was good. Her gaze flicked to Emily, who was getting pale. Shit. Find the sniper, Natasha. Now. Growling, she peered back to where the sniper should be. A bush twitched, opposite the light breeze, and no birds moved. She shot into the thick of it.

The bush jerked, and she slid a fresh bullet into the barrel, shot the bush again. Bright and sharp, the sun's eye was caught in the sniper's scope. She saw teeth. They were clenched in a grimace, and she put a bullet two inches above them. The mouth dropped to the ground, and the gun scope pointed the wrong way.

Sniper down.

"Emily," fell from her lips as she jumped to the bandage. Eyes barely focused on her. "Dammit, Em. You need to stop getting hurt on every mission."

Opening a sewing kit, she pulled out a length of thread. The bandage was torn off. Without a deep breath or warning, she reached into Emily's thigh, hunting for the slippery bit of rubber that was her gushing artery. Emily screamed. Eyes focusing on Natasha, her hands balled into fists, and she grabbed shuddering breaths, enough frame of mind in her to try and control her pain with deep breathing.

"Good, Em. Deep breaths, just like that." Her fingers closed around the knicked artery, glad that it hadn't completely severed, and she pulled thread around it. "I'm going to tie it and stop the bleeding." With her other hand and teeth, she looped the thread.

It slid down to the vessel, and tightened around it. She looped again. The knot settled right where she wanted it, and she was able to take her fingers off without blood spurting. Her own shuddering breath was taken, but just for good measure, she looped more thread and made a secondary knot. A lot could go wrong in the five miles to where the quinjet was waiting. She really hoped nothing would.

"You got him?" Emily rasped.

She refrained from gathering Emily's face between her blood-soaked hands. Her lips caressed pale cheeks instead. "Right between the eyes."

"Showoff," grunted from her.

Wiping blood onto her pant leg, she tried to smile. "In your defense, his camouflage was nearly perfect. I didn't even see his face til I hit him." Or her face. She had no idea, never would, but she didn't particularly care. Taking care of Emily was top priority. Fresh packing was shoved in the wound, Emily's hand put on it to hold it there while Natasha wrapped binding around the leg.

Emily remained too pale for worry to be fully assuaged. She'd lost a _lot_ of blood while Natasha was hunting the sniper. Grinding teeth, she rooted through her pack, dug out rations, found the tiny bottle of honey they'd brought for tea.

"Open up."

While Emily squinted at her, slowly lowered her jaw, she popped the lid. Mouth open, she squirted a thick dollop on the tongue. It retracted to swallow, and honey trailed down Emily's chin and throat.

"Dammit," softly irritated, "You're worse than Lila." She wiped at the sticky mess.

Amused, Emily grinned. A moment later, her tongue was poking out. "More."

She nearly emptied the bottle into Emily before sticking the canteen of water in her face. Emily occupied, Natasha pared the two packs down to one. Absolute essentials only. One pack and gun slung over her back, she dragged one of Emily's arms across her shoulders and lifted her to a standing position. "Can you gimp with me?"

"Yep."

To her credit, Emily tried. Maybe half a mile, and Natasha's patience evaporated, her concern winning. She scooped Emily into her arms.

"I think you like doing this," muttered into her shoulder. A hiss of pain as Natasha adjusted her grip. "Showing off how fucking strong you actually are."

Maneuvering the dense, young forest, Natasha saved her energy for walking.

"Don't try to deny it, fox. Your tiny little body is stronger than Clint."

Why did she let Emily go on missions? Why hadn't she gotten Stark to design Em a suit of armor yet? Not even an "iron suit," just something to protect her fragile body from the realities of war. As soon as they got back home, she was going to make that happen. She told Emily as much.

Naturally, Emily...

Didn't argue? "Okay."

Surprise stilled her feet. "Really?"

Soft chuckles faded to a breathy whisper. "It's come to my attention that bullets hurt."

Natasha started to smile back, but Emily's too-pale skin, covered in a layer of cold sweat kept her expression neutral. She pushed herself into a run. Stay alive, Emily.

Stay alive.

Her mantra kept her busy all the way to the quinjet that waited for them. Nearly heedless of further injury, she slapped an unconscious Emily to the quin's floor, elbowed the controls to close the bay door and had an IV needle in Emily's vein before the locks engaged. Bag of whole blood dripping into the vein, and Natasha went for the med-table that folded up from the floor. She carefully lifted and settled Emily to its padded surface.

"Hey."

Dark eyelashes fluttered until black eyes found her. "Hey."

"You try to die on me again, and I'll," tears closed her throat. "I'll..."

"Carry m'ass t' safety ahgehn," murmured back. Emily's eyes were already closing. "Dun worry, fox, I'll wear wah'ev armah you wan'."

White taking over her knuckles, Emily touched one of them. Hot pain made Natasha squeak. It was over before she could berate Emily, who had passed out. She touched the scabbed wound through the hole in her jacket. Half-dead, and the stubborn healer was still taking care of her. "Damn you, Emily." Folding her hand around Emily's cool one, she sighed. "Damn your love for me."

A kiss to her forehead, and Natasha put herself to work. Blankets were tucked around Emily, straps carefully secured her to the table, and medical monitoring attached to her. Stowing her worry to the back of her mind, Natasha readied the quin for liftoff.

"Widow to base."

"Go ahead," replied Steve's reassuring calm.

She allowed herself to smile. "Ready a bed for the goddess. She got herself shot again."

"Will do."

"Oh, and tell Stark to draw up designs for lightweight armor."

A pause. "For Sekhmet?"

"For the bullet-magnet, yes."

"About time."

She had brought the quin into the clouds. Sunlight streaked across the nose, and she looked back at her sleeping Emilishka. "And tell him to put the kind of effort behind it that he would for his wife."

Steve's good-humored laughter finished easing her worry. "I'll be sure to light a fire under his butt."

"Thanks, old man."

"No sweat, Widow."

She might've pushed the engines harder than necessary getting Emily to a surgeon. She might also have been held back by Steve as Emily was wheeled to an operating room. She was definitely heard as she threatened the surgeon's life if anything happened to her Emily on his table. She was possibly seen crying in public. She finally relaxed when she felt Emily's pulse under her hand again. She absolutely crawled into Emily's bed to snuggle protectively around her.


End file.
